from the prince to the gentleman farmer--the
best whist-players are not, as a rule, those who are the most highly
educated or intellectual. Men of letters, for example (I am speaking,
of course, very generally), are inferior to the doctors and the
warriors. Both the late Lord Lytton and Charles Lever had, it is true,
a considerable reputation at the whist-table, but though they were good
players, they were not in the first class; while the author of 'Guy
Livingstone,' though devoted to the game, was scarcely to be placed in
the second. The best players are, one must confess, what irreverent
persons, ignorant of the importance of this noble pursuit, would term
'idlers'--men of mere nominal occupation, or of none, to whom the game
has been familiar from their youth, and who have had little else to do
than to play it.

While some men, as I have said, can never be taught whist, a few are
born with a genius for the game, and move up 'from high to higher,'
through all the grades of excellence, with a miraculous rapidity; but,
whether good, bad, or indifferent, I have not known half a dozen
whist-players who were not superstitious. Their credulity is, indeed,
proverbial, but no one who does not mix with them can conceive the
extent of it; it reminds one of the African fetish. The country
apothecary's wife who puts the ivory 'fish' on the candlestick 'for
luck,' and her partner, the undertaker, who turns his chair in hopes to
realise more 'silver threepences,' are in no way more ridiculous than
the grave and reverend seigneurs of the Clubs who are attracted to 'the
winning seats' or 'the winning cards.' The idea of going on because
'the run of luck' is in your favour, or of leaving off because it has
declared itself against you, is logically of course unworthy of
Cetywayo. The only modicum of reason that underlies it is the fact that
the play of some men becomes demoralised by ill-fortune, and may,
possibly, be improved by success. Yet the belief in this absurdity is
universal, and bids fair to be eternal. 'If I am not in a draught, and
my chair is comfortable, you may put me anywhere,' is a remark I have
heard but once, and the effect of it on the company was much the same
as if in the House of Convocation some reverend gentleman had announced
his acceptance of the religious programme of M. Comte.

With the few exceptions I have mentioned, whist-players not only stop
very far short of excellence in the game, but very soon rea